Secret Santa
by shywr1ter
Summary: Now completed: an S1,M/L Christmas gift for Latenightrain. Logan knew the buyout of Jam Pony was for the good of everyone there -- Max included. It wouldn't hurt anything. Well, anything other than his relationship with Max -- whatever that was...
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters, lines and situations borrowed; no profits made. **The opening lines of this story are dialogue from the end of the Season 1 episode, "_Cold Comfort_." I have probably taken liberties with when that episode would have taken place, but hope you'll bear with me. It's just for a teeny bit of tie in to the holidays; ignore it if you're a purist!

_**Christmas at Christmas Challenge '09: a Gift for Latenightrain**_

**A/N:** Poor LNR, getting me as Santa twice in a row, and this time I'm late. Mega-apologies for both! LNR's wish list was:

1) The Aztek

2) Jam Pony

3) A message delivered in an unusual way

4) A line delivered in a language other than English ( with translation!)

...and the only thing she asked to avoid was the virus (no problem there!)

_Merry Christmas and late holiday cheer to Latenightrain and everyone!_

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_**Secret Santa**_

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_November 17, 2019_

Max had been back at his place for almost ninety minutes and she hadn't been herself. She had told him what had happened with Brin, but it had been more of a debriefing than a conversation, and Logan recognized that the distance she put between the events she reported to him and her own feelings about it all was her only means of holding it together. To lose not one sibling but two in a matter of hours would be hard for anyone, but for Max, who had spent the last decade, her entire existence outside of Manticore, searching for them – it must be devastating.

She was at the window, watching the rain. After puttering around in the kitchen some more, inventing work so she could have some more time alone with her thoughts, Logan finally joined her.

"You're not going to make me eat dinner all by myself, are you?" Food, gently offered – it was the only thing he had at the moment that might make her feel at least a bit better physically, if not emotionally.

But clearly her head was still back in those last hours. Her next words, an admission that she was second and third guessing herself, spoke volumes of how deeply this had gotten to her. "Do you think we did the right thing, Logan, by letting him take her back there?"

He was surprised to see that she wasn't just asking herself that now, but really wanted his thoughts, and wanted the truth from him, not merely a comforting lie. His response was an easy one, the one he believed from the moment he'd heard what happened. "You took her out of a bad situation, and you let her choose for herself." It was the choice he always prayed for if Manticore ever caught up with her, rather than her professed preference for death over captivity. _No matter how difficult, you can always escape from captivity_, he knew. _But from death ... not an option._

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed.

"How'd you leave it with Zack?" Maybe her second connection with Zack had been better than the first, although the man's apparent habit of showing up, making demands, then leaving her in the lurch didn't say much about his own 'family values' and his regard for his doting sister...

"He grunted something that sounded like goodbye and then disappeared into the night."

"Well, you should cut him some slack," Logan offered her a tiny, hopeful smile. "He probably had a rotten childhood."

To his relief, Max rolled her eyes and smirked at his words. Warming up to his efforts, she added, "worst part is he swung with Lydecker's ride. Tinted windows, class two armor...I could have fenced it for a fortune. He probably drove it off a bridge into the water somewhere so it couldn't be dusted for prints." She had quieted a little after her first words, her worry for her brother still in her thoughts. "He obsesses," she murmured in an afterthought, trying to keep the lightness in her attitude. It wasn't too convincing.

"You need to be more careful yourself, you know." With her worry for Zack, Logan couldn't help himself from using the moment to offer his own warning for her. "'cause now Lydecker knows what you look like."

Her response was only a shrug as she turned back to stare out the window, but Logan saw that her brow darkened a bit as she considered his words. Looking at her closely now, as she stared off into the rain, his own last conversation with Zack played in his head:

"_You really worried about Max?" Zack had pressed. "The biggest threat to her safety is you."_

_Logan hadn't wanted to ask, and __**really**__ hadn't wanted to play right into Zack's verbal snare – but with that accusation, he had no choice. His one saving grace was that he'd managed to keep his features schooled and his voice level. "How do you figure?" he'd asked._

"_She should have gotten the hell out of Seattle a long time ago," Zack spat. "She knows it's not safe here, but she stayed anyway, because of you. She ignored her training and let her judgment be clouded by feelings and emotions. And one day it's going to get her killed."_

It was clear that Zack had been going for effect, and the words flung at him accusatively had indeed stuck with him – but not only for the effect Zack had sought.

"_She stayed anyway, because of __**you**__._"

It had echoed in his thoughts, riddled him with guilt as he worried for her, knowing she was facing off Lydecker ... but wrapped him in wonder once he heard she was safe.

"_She stayed anyway. __**Because of you**__._.."

He shook off his fantasies and spoke. "Max..." His voice was quiet and was filled with such heaviness it brought her eyes back to his. "How safe is it for you to stay here, now that Lydecker knows you're in Seattle? He probably even has several photos of you now he can distribute."

"You sound like Zack," she mused. But in the next moment, seeing his reaction to that, Max's eyebrows went up as she realized, "Zack said something to you, didn't he, about me needing to leave town? Damn it, we talked about this last time he was here! I told him this was my home and I'm tired of running – I'm not going to let Lydecker run me off again." She allowed herself to feel anger at Zack, firmly convinced that her brother was safe and would eventually reappear again in her life, even if it would be to try goading her again into leaving. "I can't believe he'd try to enlist your help in getting me to leave," she muttered.

"Zack knows Lydecker as well as you do, Max – and if he thinks you're in danger here, maybe you should consider it," Logan urged. "Even if it was temporary, maybe six months or so..."

His tone cut through her thoughts about Zack, and Max looked up at Logan for several long moments, as if trying to read his thoughts. When her gaze finally softened, a tiny bit of a smile curled up at the corner of her mouth. He wore that expression she had seen from him now with some frequency, that sober, sincere, intense look of concern for her safety. _So different from the player who fed me that bull in front of that big, antique mirror he used to have,_ she reflected, barely wondering anymore where it had gone. "If ... and only _if_ ... I see any indication that Don or his troops are still around, I'll give it some thought. Some _serious_ thought," she added over the breath he drew to protest.

Logan paused, trying to look disapproving at her outright refusal to leave, which wasn't easy given the rush of relief he felt to know that she wanted to stay put. Deciding not to insist – then feeling guilty at his failure to do so – he sounded almost formal in his effort to not show his reaction. "I'll ask Matt to let me know if Lydecker or any of his people poke around again," he asserted. "And I'll ask if he's seen any other feds or military types in the area. He usually has good eyes on that."

Max's smile softened even more, intrigued at his sudden protectiveness, even though she wasn't too sure what it was all about. "Friends in high places," she observed. "A good friend to have."

Logan relaxed a little from own his intensity as she did, eased by her warming expression. "He _is_ a good friend to have. The fact that he is able to share incredibly helpful information with Eyes Only is ... appreciated."

Max nodded, reflecting somewhere in the back of her thoughts how, since she'd started coming over regularly to hang with Logan, he could somehow make even her worst moments a little less awful. Wondering if it was just because he knew who she was and still _cared_, or if it was something more, she felt a sudden nervous claustrophobia and bounced away from the window, heading toward the kitchen. "You still worried about eating alone?" she tried for her usual careless air.

She heard the familiar snap of his brakes as Logan turned to follow her. "I thought you might come around."

Max allowed a little swagger to return to her gait as she heard Logan trailing behind her. She glanced back to see that his usual smirk was back, and she grinned as she grabbed a piece of pepper from the salad bowl on his work bench and popped it in her mouth. "You know, I _should_ have grabbed up one of those Manticore SUVs," she tried making light of the matter. "Gotta be better as an Eyes Only getaway vehicle than what you've got downstairs."

"What, you don't think Bessie's up to the job?" At the sudden frost in his voice, Max turned in surprise, seeing Logan's expression had changed yet again, the tense, studied neutrality wholly unconvincing. "You should talk to Bling," he went on, not looking up at her as he busied himself with the already-tossed salad. "He has a whole list of reasons I'm supposed to be delighted with her – he'll tell you how tough it is to find an automatic transmission these days, especially one that's reliable, and without too many miles on it, or one as reasonable on gas, given the size. Oh, and something large enough to carry a chair and a spare..." Despite his attempt to sound flip about it all, Max heard the strain in his voice, and, in his unexpected torrent of words, a bitterness he wasn't quite able to swallow.

It suddenly dawned on Max that the boxy, improbable Aztek was about the last vehicle a single, wealthy, underground cyberjournalist would own, given a choice. She'd run into his occasional prickliness with things related to his injury, and she always shied away from facing them head-on – after all, her own guilt would nudge back at her quickly otherwise, reminding her that he might not even had to have _been_ there with Lauren and Sophie at all, let alone left shot and lying in the street, with a wheelchair now his main mode of transportation.

But this time, this one hit home. She knew how the freedom and release of her motorcycle felt to her, and suddenly understood the sense of loss he'd feel, if he'd had hot car with some speed and moves. Or worse – what if _he'd_ had a 'cycle, too? He never said – but she'd never asked. She wondered how long her days would be if she didn't know she had her bike waiting for her, there for a fast escape, even if only across town to the Needle.

No matter what Bling or anyone could arrange, there were no hand controls to make her bike drivable by Logan now. And probably a lot of cars were the same way. It just hadn't occurred to her before.

She thought fast; her innocent observation had hurt him and, way down deep this time, she _completely_ got why. She felt a need to make it right. Hoping he didn't catch her thoughts, Max leaned on the counter and shrugged in her tough-girl mode, "I just thought it was part of that whole, kicked back, layin' low thing you do – you know, so no one figures out all your secret identities."

To her relief, it worked; from his dark expression before, he at least looked up to her, his brow drawn into a quizzical expression, even if still tense. "_All_ my secret identities?"

"Yeah. You know."

"_Other_ than Eyes Only...?"

She smirked. "Oh, yeah." She tipped her chin to him, as he sat before her in his comfortably worn khakis and simple, crew neck sweater. "Like this is how a guy with serious money steps out in the world," she drawled.

At first he blustered a little, both defensive and uncertain about what she meant, but he saw the twinkle in her eye, teasing him, and he relaxed a little more. "Hey, the sweater cost me some – it's cashmere. Post-Pulse Italian cashmere, from the first place that started selling quality again after the crash."

She rolled her eyes and laughed now. "Yeah, big playah move there, Logan. Expensive sweater, but find the one that looks most like a t-shirt. I'm not sayin' there's anything _wrong_ with that," she lifted her hands to cut off his next protest, grinning widely now as she won the point, "but you gotta admit ... low key in the extreme, ya know?"

His expression finally returned to the grudging smile she'd seen before. "And from what you said, Manticore didn't bring along the sort of vehicle that blends in."

Max simply smiled and let her eyes travel over to the oven, where something in a casserole dish was bubbling invitingly. "What can I do?"

"Get out some plates and utensils?" Logan crossed over to the oven to open the door, pull out the oven rack and lift the hot dish onto the oven top as Max fished out their place settings. She watched him surreptitiously, satisfied that she'd gotten him past that moment – and wondered why it made her so pleased to have been able to do so. She shook it off. _Don't go there, Max_, she warned herself, and focused all her thoughts on the weight and smooth feel of the plates and silverware she gathered to take into the dining room.

But after only a few moments of quiet between them, Logan spoke up again, his voice signaling a whole new topic. "Hey..." His worry for Max staying in Seattle, and their uneasy 'resolution' of that concern, had reminded him of something else he'd found to worry about. "Whatever happened with that buyout of Jam Pony, did anything ever come of it?"

He hadn't told Max yet what he'd discovered. When Max and Zack were taking on Lydecker, and he found himself alone, stewing in the frustration of being left behind and too distracted by what might be happening out there to focus on Eyes Only research, he'd killed time by doing the research he promised himself he'd do at Max's first mention of Mr. Sivapathasundaram and his interest in buying Jam Pony. He hoped that the buy out might make the information he'd found irrelevant...

"Oh, yeah," she laughed softly. Now used to the dinner drill, Max crossed back into the kitchen to pull out a mat to protect Logan's pricy table from the hot dish. "All taken care of. Original Cindy came up with a plan to kill Normal's delusions of grandeur before they ever got off the ground." She went out to place the mat on the table and arrange the plates and utensils on either side.

But Logan had glanced over to her at her response, concern back on his face. "Why?"

"Well, he was going crazy, Logan!" She came back into the kitchen as she spoke. "He was all about new rules and restrictions, talking about uniforms and painting and scrubbing things down. He would have had half the riders bounced for whatever in their systems with in the first week."

"Did he say anything about having to close Jam Pony if things didn't go through?"

"Close? No – he just..." She paused, uncertain now. "No. He just acted like it would be a big boost to his empire."

Logan frowned. "I did some checking while I was waiting to hear from you and Zack." He watched as Max, her brow drawn with his tone, came over to lift the steaming casserole and carry it to the table, still clearly waiting for an explanation. "Up until about four months ago, Jam Pony was owned by a company that held a number of smaller businesses, mostly franchised commercial services. They weren't making a go of things so they got rid of about half their assets – including Jam Pony. No one bought the place after that, and from everything I can tell, your boss was trying to keep it afloat himself."

"Normal?" Max blinked, surprised. "He was using his own money to run the place?" Despite her frequent irritation with the man, the thought surprised her – and impressed her. She saw Logan shrug and nod as he grabbed the salad bowl to take it over to the table.

"And he's not a wealthy man," he continued. "It looks as if he had some small stocks he sold, and he took out a loan." Logan watched as Max fought the inevitable, realizing that her boss was putting his own finances on the line for their little business. "He was probably counting on the purchase to keep Jam Pony going. From what I was able to see, the place has never done much more than just break even, and with some frequency, your salaries had to be fronted by the business if your regular customers were late on their monthly payments. With things the way they are, Normal won't have the money to keep things going on his own much longer, and the business doesn't have enough in its accounts to get very far through the leaner months."

"Damn," she murmured. "The whole thing was that everyone liked things the way they were – they thought if someone bought the place, everyone would have to start saluting and jumping through hoops. No one had any idea it might be the only way we could keep our jobs."

"Max..." Logan began softly. "You know ... if you ever have a problem with money..."

She looked up at the sincere green eyes, and, though warmed by his offer, shook her head in stubborn intensity. "Thanks, Logan, but I get by on my own; always have, and I'm not gonna start taking handouts now." Despite her words, worry was still clear in her features. "But the rest of them – Original Cindy, Herbal ... _Sketchy_ ..." She rolled her eyes. "They're not exactly the junior executive type, any of them. Jam Pony is perfect for them."

"No word about any new buyers from Normal?" Logan asked, as Max plopped down into a chair at the table, discouragement pulling at her features. She simply shook her head. "Well," he shrugged again. "Maybe he can keep it going until someone else expresses an interest."

"Damn," Max repeated softly, sadly. "Life just sucks sometimes, Logan."

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To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters, lines and situations borrowed; no profits made. **

_A/N: Please see the A/N in Chapter 1 for LNR's wish list which prompted this story. All reviews, comments, grumbles and groans welcome! _

**Secret Santa**

Deliveries had started picking up for the Christmas season and Normal was bip-bip-bipping with an intensity that had his employees moaning and rolling their eyes at him, even though the extra runs translated into extra tips which meant extra pitchers at Crash. He seemed to be yelling more than talking – even more than before – and all the riders seemed to react by moving a little more slowly and snapping back a little more readily.

Well ... not _all_ the riders. At least not at first.

Ever since Logan had filled Max in on Normal's business woes, Max had watched him, just on the verge of asking him about things but just never quite able to do so. She was tempted to warn her peeps that they might want to keep their eyes open for new employment, because they might be out on the street any minute – but something kept holding her back. Maybe it was the certain knowledge that telling them would _not_ result in a more productive Jam Pony, and might even lead to killing their little workplace for good; maybe it was her hope that the Christmas rush would grace them again and give Normal a little boost in the checkbook. Whatever it was, it bugged Max a little to find herself keeping silent with her peeps to Normal's benefit, but she believed, at least for now, that not telling _anyone_ what she knew might be the best for them all, in the long run.

So she watched. Admittedly, the man had seemed a bit more stressed lately, and was keeping longer hours. He was paler; he was verging on gaunt. He was on the phone more, in the back room; a few times Max sneaked by and listened through the door to hear him calling local businesses to try to hook them up with new month to month contracts, or calling a bank for an extension on a payment – or calling a broker, it seemed, about finding a buyer for the place.

Yet, Max grudged, he'd been taking it like a soldier, weathering the usual crap he got from his employees and never letting on what was going down with Jam Pony or what he was personally putting on the line. Max even wondered if he was eating less because of time, or worry – or lack of money. Whatever it was, he wasn't doing it all just for his own hide – the man had something like three PhDs, and certainly could find something else to do if he just got creative about looking ... and Max began to suspect he was doing this more for his employees than for himself. If she could see how unlikely Sketchy and the others were to find much other employment out there, no college and no contacts to help them – he would see it, too...

During that first week, Max reported her worries back to Logan, and by Friday they'd concocted a story to go with the big "picnic" lunch he'd sent over for them all, a box filled with his homemade chicken salad and a couple loaves of bread for sandwiches, tubs of veggies, and bags of fruit. As the riders all descended for a free meal, Max regaled them all with details of a fictional bet she'd made with Logan that he'd lost, with his pay-off being lunch for her friends. Without being too obvious about it, Max made sure that Normal got a couple of the sandwiches they were building, assembly line style, and plenty of extras: loading a plate with food, she crossed over to the counter where Normal kept working as he only pretended not to watch the others, and dropped it in front of him. Before he could speak, Max breezed, "Logan says thanks for letting him invade your place for his pay-off." She turned and bounced back to the others, not giving Normal a chance to respond in any way other than to eat what was in front of him. In another twenty minutes, when he wasn't watching, she took another plate, bearing more fruit and snacks, to the back room and left it on his desk. _At least he'd have a decent meal this week_, she knew.

But her intensity in watching Normal began to wane as deliveries picked up into December, and Jam Pony was still in business. Normal actually had begun to look a bit brighter, and Max wondered if maybe things were going better with the money end of the business, too. Their work days started getting longer with extra deliveries, and with that and her "errands" for Logan as her promised _quid pro quo_ for the picnic, her earlier worry became an increasingly distant memory.

**December 12, 2019**

Max barely glared up at the truck blocking her way before cutting a quick, tight path around it, passing it on her beat-up Jam Pony bike almost as fast as she might on her Ninja. It was wet and getting wetter; it was chilly and getting colder. The rain was turning to sleet, and now, nearing 8:30 a.m., it was starting to get darker rather than lighter as the clouds thickened in promise of another winter day in Seattle.

_Shit,_ Max glowered.

As she had from the beginning of the week, Max had gone in to Jam Pony before it opened to pick up a few deliveries and get them out early. An overly organized Normal had taken to staying after hours and putting out deliveries for the next morning that could be taken before 7 AM, offering a per-run overtime bonus for those items delivered outside of the work day. It was perfect for a girl who needed no sleep and extra cash. Max fleetingly wondered if the overtime bonuses would cut into whatever little boost the holidays might be giving Normal, and hoped that he knew what he was doing – and that the incentive pay was more than covered by increased revenues. That made her add a hope that one of his PhDs was in business. But he'd planned to do this through Christmas, much to the initial delight of his riders, only three of whom actually came in early more than once. Max decided to keep an eye on the deliveries – she knew she could deliver whatever Normal decided to leave out for them while everyone else was asleep, but didn't want to take the others' overtime. She took just enough for herself to start, and swung back by just before opening to pick up whatever the others left behind.

This particular morning, the weather, the traffic and the extra loads held Max up, so she assumed she'd get back to a Jam Pony empty of riders, with growing stacks of deliveries waiting for her, the runs keeping them everyone on the move. But when she arrived, _all_ of the others were still there – and all circled around Normal's desk, some studying the handout they all held, some asking him questions, one over another, and some talking to the rider next to him.

The latter was mainly Sketchy.

But she first heard Druid, raising his voice to be heard over the others confronting Normal, so the others would hear him too. "Hey, hey, hey, look at this – free medical and dental at Metro Medical's outpatient clinics?" his voice rose in wonder. "Free _anything_, c'mon – but _this?_ It's a scam, Normal..."

"And... 'hospitalization?'" Sketchy looked up from his paper, looking confused. "What's that?"

"It's payment, genius," Original Cindy smacked him lightly, backhanded, in his chest. "You need to be treated in the hospital, give 'em your card and Jam Pony pays..."

"No way!" He snorted immediately. "What's the catch?"

"See?" Druid turned back to Normal. "If even Sketchy smells a rat..."

Max had sided up to Original Cindy and looked over her shoulder to the paper she held in her hand. "What's going on?"

"_This – "_ Cindy shoved the paper toward Max. "Normal just announced that Jam Pony's been sold, no warning, no nuthin,' and gives us this from the new owner..."

"Mr. Sivapathasundaram?" Max asked, looking down through the handout.

"Doubt it," Sketchy remembered with a grin.

Max frowned as she saw what they were worked up about. On a single sheet of paper bearing a simple, printed business logo for "Benlo, PLLC" was a canned pitch, welcoming Jam Pony and its employees to the "Benlo family" and assuring them that as employees of the Benlo family of companies (listed for their perusal), they would have the benefits of both small and large company employment, with a focus on their mission statement that if they cared for their workers, the workers would care about their work....

Max looked up with a snort. "Are they kidding?" she demanded.

"They assured me they are a solid, local concern, established in 2015..." Normal began again.

"More like established in Chicago in 1915," Herbal muttered. "Wasn't that when Dillinger was in charge of things there?"

"Yeah, Normal," Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's the catch? This some sort of cover? You sell your soul to the black market Syndicate and we're their runners now?"

"This may not be so bad, Max," Sketchy poked a finger mid-way down on the page. "Says here Normal has to keep a fridge here stocked with water and juice for us, and have stuff like energy bars and fruit." Sketchy grinned. "At least we'll be livin' large until they shoot us..."

"_And_ they'll get us new bikes _and_ have rain gear available if we want it... not even that we _have_ to wear, just if we want. Something ain't right." Cindy shook her head, her expression closed off. "Ain't no business gonna give us all that and not expect our first born in return."

"Nothing like that," Normal sighed, exasperated. "They made an offer I couldn't refuse, even when they said we had to make such efforts for you undeserving rabble.

"'An offer you couldn't refuse,'" Druid repeated, "and that didn't ring any bells for you?"

"Maybe they're a charity," Normal murmured, suddenly amused at the thought.

"Who _are_ they, Normal?" Max knew not to accept any largess without looking behind the curtain. "Other than Mr. Sivapathasundaram you didn't have anyone nosing around to check out the place, did you?"

"No, no, they just ... heard about our efforts, and..." he trailed, suddenly hearing how unlikely it seemed, especially in the slow-to-grow economy. "They may have used our services in the past," he shrugged.

"Like _that's_ gonna make someone buy us," Sketchy laughed. Herbal offered him a fist bump, which he readily accepted.

"Why would they care how you treat us?" Max pressed again. She suddenly thought about Lydecker and the lengths he might go to get her back. _Oh, come on Max, now you're really losing it_, she told herself immediately. _Even if free health care is so unlikely that it's suspicious, setting up free treatment for __**everyone**__, in the hope that __**I**__ just might use it one day, is just too unlikely a pay-out for even Don to consider..._

"Maybe we have to agree not to sue them for on the job injuries if we use their medical plan," Cindy offered. "Probably less for them, payin' for clinic visit here an' there, than payin' lawyers, too."

Which earned another snort from Max. "Like when has anyone here thought far enough ahead to sue this place?" Max wanted to add that Jam Pony wasn't worth a dime and certainly not enough to get a lawyer interested, but in the circumstances, she wouldn't do that to Normal. "You really think that would make a difference?" she asked her friend, still skeptical.

"Maybe if we're only one of many," Cindy shrugged. "Normal, we joining a chain operation or something? We gotta change our name for all this?"

"I saw nothing about a chain or anything required other than the lists you see before you," Normal shook his head, stubbornly clinging on to his original reaction that this was a _good_ thing for Jam Pony. "Well, that, and the ownership will be in some management company rather than individual people." He thought for a moment, then reasoned, "look, it's probably a tax dodge for some wealthy investor – he puts his money here and takes the capitol losses, figures his way around his taxes, pays in all the health care ... it's not like Jam Pony is ever going to make anyone rich. So maybe the best money to be made is the tax write off they'd get, throwing us in on top of the money making businesses they have too."

"Man, you gotta be some kind of genius to figure all that out," Sketchy laughed.

"Except that it's clear – it takes money to earn money," Normal said wistfully. "Maybe these people can get something out of Jam Pony and we'll be able to breath a little easier."

Herbal laughed. "That we will, man, because the paper say that the company send around someone to inspect and fix health hazards... dat bathroom will take them six months!" His words got him an approving slap on the shoulder by a laughing Druid.

But at the words "wealthy" and "rich," Max's eyes had narrowed and she tuned out the others. Without a visit to Jam Pony or an investigation into its employees, with barely a check into its financial health, some investors bring them under their umbrella to operate with this other list of local small businesses. All for a tax dodge ... or something else? All for a purpose that it would take "some kind of genius" to figure out? Just a cold business deal to cut financial losses? Then why the concern about health care and fruit juice, hospitalization and rain gear?

Would he ...?

_Without saying anything...?_

Yes, and yes. And Max wasn't too sure how she felt about that...

_**To be continued....**_


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters, lines and situations borrowed; no profits made. **

_A/N: Please see the A/N in Chapter 1 for LNR's wish list which prompted this story. All reviews, comments, grumbles and groans welcome! _

**Secret Santa**

**December 12, 2019**

Not even 8:00 a.m. yet, and Logan had been at the computer for nearly three hours, despite the fact that as usual, he hadn't crawled into bed the night before until nearly 2:00. It wasn't like he was getting a lot accomplished; he was too distracted.

He snorted at himself and pushed abruptly back from his desk, grabbing his empty coffee cup to head back out to the kitchen for his third – or was it his fourth? – of the morning. He allowed himself a rueful grin at his jumpiness, its cause making his grin soften in his hopeful mood. Ever since Bennett had called, telling him that the deal with Benlo had gone through, the small surge of accomplishment he first felt gave way to a hope that this would make Max happy, that he'd found a way to do something meaningful for her and for the motley group at Jam Pony, all of whom had become almost as important to her as her Manticore siblings.

He tried to tell himself he was simply insuring continued employment for his number one operative, giving her reason to find Seattle to be a good, dependable place to stay, employment that came with her very own, established pass through the city, making her well known to many of the sector police and business establishments in the central business district as a Jam Pony messenger. He'd reminded himself several times that week how Eyes Only _really_ would have hated to lose that handy connection, and that the buy-out was simply a safety net for his own work. The fact that Max and her friends might benefit, too, just made it a better thing all around.

And as he had, several times that week, he found himself lost in thought about her, about her crackling, smart ass approach to things, her hidden, vulnerable side, her deep, dark eyes and velvet skin...

He caught himself, blinked a bit, and poured himself another mug of coffee. Snapping the lid back on the travel mug that he found not only kept his coffee warm longer, but cut _way_ down on the spills and sloshes as he carried the mug back nestled between his thighs, he crossed back past the computer room and on out to the big, rain streaked windows of his front rooms.

The morning gloom outside hadn't lifted, but Logan barely noticed how the clouds just became thicker and more threatening as the morning wore on, and only heard without hearing the silvery, rippling sounds of wind-driven sleet against the glass. His thoughts were miles away, knowing that _this_ was the morning, maybe even this very minute, Max would be hearing about the buy-out and the hope for a more stable future for Jam Pony.

The image made him smile. He tried to imagine her reaction – would she really understand how close the place was to closing, and how solid Benlo was now, so that continued operation of Jam Pony was as good a bet as anything in the economy these days? The feeling of jumpy anticipation, of hope that this would bring a smile to her face, had kept him from getting more than a few minutes sleep here and there all night, and he suddenly realized how adolescent he'd become with it all.

Over the years as Eyes Only and as the wealthy heir of a wealthy family, Logan had been the source of or connected to countless acts of charity and selfless generosity. It had been a way of life for generations of Cales, and he rarely gave it much thought. He never expected fawning gratitude for his "good deeds;" in fact, he scrupulously sought anonymity for them: growing up in a family with a long history of charitable contributions and his own efforts first as a journalist then as EO, he was used to – and more comfortable with – being ignored, not thanked. He not only preferred it, he knew that in this economy, advertising that one had the means to fund such a project just opened them up to countless pleas for money, even targeted them for theft, kidnapping, all sorts of scams. In fact, with this project, with Benlo as the buyer, there really was no reason Max would have to know it came from him.

But this time he held a tiny hope that Max might figure it out, so she'd know he thought about her and tried to help. At one point, early on after the sale, he got a case of cold feet for not having told Max about his plan ahead of time, wondering if she'd figure things out and somehow misunderstand his intentions. Max was unpredictable about when she was put off by his using his resources to help, and when she took a free meal or other handout without batting an eye, but he had no doubt that it was all very clear in her own mind. She honored her promises for their _quid pro quo_ assiduously, he knew, but he just couldn't always tell what constituted a debt – or a payback – for her. All he knew was that he found a need, had a means to help, and to help a lot of people important to Max, all in one mention of Jam Pony to his cousin. He really wanted Max to know this time how much it meant to him to be able to make things good for her and her friends...

He felt his cheeks warm involuntarily at his fantasies of Max's reaction, and he was glad that she wasn't there to catch him, mooning like this. _All just because of playing Santa with Jam Pony?_ he asked himself. _What's gotten into you?_

_Mission creep._

He suddenly laughed, the quiet sound breaking the soft drumming sound of the sleet, as Zack's words echoed back in his head, but in a very different context this time.

_Mission creep._

He remembered that, even as bad as things were at that time, when he'd heard Zack's words they'd caught his attention. It was a pretty cool term for the idea – and sounded even better.

_Mission creep mission creep mission creep. _

He laughed again, his anticipation making him feel surprisingly lighthearted and hopeful. Yeah, "mission creep" wasn't a bad term for what he was feeling, a wholly inappropriate and overblown anticipation for what Max might think of the buy-out. _That's Zack's fault, too,_ Logan told himself. _"She stayed anyway. Because of you,"_ Zack had said, and from then on, from the time that Max was back safe at his place, he'd allowed the words to bring a little more light into his world. He fought every day to keep from reading too much into them, but he couldn't fight the fact that Max stayed in Seattle, refusing to go with her brother for whom she'd spent a decade searching, because of him. Even his early efforts to try to warn himself that she did so only out of guilt fell flat when he watched her closely, listened intently, and searched each nuance to read what Max might be thinking...

_She stayed anyway – because of you,_ he told himself proudly. And at that very moment, Max was learning that staying in Seattle would be made a bit easier, her job more secure. With the thought, Logan sighed contentedly and watched the sleet streak his window, feeling not chilled or grey in the least...

Yeah, not a bad term for what he was feeling.

**..............**

In retrospect, he'd always wonder what in the world let him convince himself that Max would _like_ surprises.

He'd managed to stop mooning about her and her reaction after twenty minutes at the window, and had been back at the computer for another forty minutes or so when he heard his security system's code entered and his door opening.

"Logan?"

If the snapped tone hadn't warned him, then the quick sounds in his entry and no-nonsense, striding sound of her boots on his wooden floor did. Logan didn't believe in coincidences, and the sound of her voice and the strength of her step on this particular morning let him know that Max suspected him. _Already._ And to his rising concern, her reaction didn't sound as if it was the enthusiastic, romantic, grateful delight he'd imagined as he stared past the sleet and daydreamed...

_Even Max couldn't know __**everything**__, not that fast, _he allowed denial to try telling him._ Maybe it's something else entirely..._

"Logan, " she repeated as she rounded the divider into his computer room. She didn't look angry, actually, just – determined. _Intense._

"Hey." He tried for brainless pleasantness, smiling up at her. He wondered if his voice sounded as strained to her ears as it did to his as he fought for an innocent appearance.

"What do you know about 'Benlo, LLC?'"

"Benlo," he repeated as he let his eyes swing back to his computer monitor, trying to keep his features neutral as he let his fingers dance across the keyboard. Buoyed by the reprieve she unwittingly provided, he figured, _just as I would do with anything else she'd have, act as if she's asking for a quick check on the..._

"Not your sources. _You,_" she demanded.

But his fingers were faster; the company's website had popped up to help him out. "Same as here," he nodded to the screen. "They're ..." His finger found the information and he poked at it, to get Max's eyes on the screen and away from him. "...a holding company for small service providers in the Pacific Northwest. Let's see..." he tried to stifle the urge to glance up and see if Max were still glaring at him. He let his finger trail across the screen to the companies listed. "They have about a dozen companies here – the Pike Street Co-op ... a home-repair company ... a couple daycare programs ... and here, an organic nursery and an Indian grocery ... a community co-op medical clinic..."

"Logan!" She interrupted his slow, stalling recitation of the businesses listed on their site, and when he looked up she had her hand on her hip, definitely looking as if she was starting to lean more toward anger than she had before.

_Maybe too much stalling?_ he wondered, before it occurred to him that his passive reaction to her intrusion probably gave him away as much as anything. He frowned, and blinked in honest confusion, "what'd I do?" _Is she really angry that we bailed them out? Not even Max can interpret a good deed as a bad thing – can she?_

"That's what I'd like to know," her retort was immediate. Max considered him for a few moments, and then abruptly tried, "so tell me you never heard of Benlo before just now."

He blinked, frowned again, and managed, "I can't. I'd _heard_ of them..."

"How?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable with where this was going. "With other business stuff. A local holding company..." he repeated.

"From whom?"

His shrug this time was more fidget than shrug. "My cousin." He made the mistake of glancing up to meet his eyes and she had him, he knew...

Her eyes narrowed. "Who's your cousin? Some big wheeler dealer..."

"No!" he blurted, "no, just the opposite. Look – Benlo happened because he was just trying to live up to his father's expectations." At Max's shrug and look that demanded more, he explained, "my uncle thinks that you're not a Cale unless you can make a killing by the age of twenty five. He was on the lookout for some investments a few years ago, and decided to try some local business development. He ended up looking around at holding companies, and ... started to try doing the same thing by investing in some small local businesses. To his credit, he's not quite the mercenary his father is – and he looked for places that were doing good in the community, trying to help others survive the depression but needed a hand themselves to keep from folding."

Max's dark eyes bored into his. Not sure now where this was going, but seeing 'guilty Logan' all over his face now, Max turned for only a moment and grabbed the desk chair behind him. Spinning it closer, she plopped down in the chair so she was eye to eye with Logan and said, tersely, "okay, Logan, spill – all of it. No red flags in this at all, are there? A sugar daddy company suddenly coming in to help the little guy? What's got you looking like you want to bolt, and what gives with this company 'Benlo?' Sounds to me like maybe Eyes Only has gone commercial." Her eyes missed nothing; she watched Logan's expression as her tirade seemed to have blindsided him, but he clearly knew what she was talking about. She snorted. "Maybe whatever it is isn't exactly the same as you breakin' into my place to steal my tryptophan, but right now it's starting to feel a whole lot like it."

Logan blinked in honest surprise at that. Stung, he tried, "Max, it's nothing like..."

"So what _is_ it like, Logan? It's just a coincidence that someone in your family finds out about a busted up place like Jam Pony? What's the catch?"

Despite his gut telling him all sorts of ways this might have gone, it simply hadn't occurred to Logan that Max would see this buy-out – and his part in it – as a threat, or an intrusion, or as _meddling, _which was what he sensed from her now. He tried to understand it, but couldn't help the niggling hurt he felt at her reaction. All he could remember was that hope he'd carried, even up to her appearance that morning, that she when she eventually figured out his involvement she'd know he cared. _And you got it wrong again, didn't you?_ he jeered his inner romantic.

"No catch, Max," he said softly, trying to focus on that part of him still trying to understand the invasion she must have felt. "Bennett just thought if he could make some money from the investments, he would get his father off his back and at the same time maybe help some local businesses keep afloat. He's tried to find responsible businesses, places that employ at least a dozen people, places that might not have the backing of bigger corporate owners or big commercial returns."

She may as well not have heard him – or anything past his cousin's name. _"Bennett?" _she demanded. "Bennett – as in 'Benlo.' As in 'Bennett and Logan?'" Her eyes bore into his for only a moment before finding her answer. "This is a company you share with him – _Ben__**lo**_," she confirmed, stressing the last syllable and making it sound more like he'd stolen Jam Pony rather than help buy it. "Am I wrong?"

He wished he could understand why it was a bad thing, but almost felt as if he somehow should have known she'd feel this way. At least a half dozen responses crossed his mind before he finally shook his head and admitted softly, "no – you're not wrong."

With a snort and a visible surge of exasperation, Max was suddenly on her feet and pacing out toward his large windows, her agitation clear but her reaction not so easily defined.

"Max," he followed her, hoping it was just her misunderstanding of their purpose. "Look – this buy-out – it's not anything different that what we've done before – what _Bennett_ has done. It's something he started several years ago," he tried explaining again. "His father – my Uncle Jonas – had been hassling him about investments and his not diving in to create businesses and holding companies the way _he_ had when he was Ben's age. That wasn't really fair, given he had a pre-Pulse rising economy to work with... Bennet's a good guy, Max, and my uncle was just riding him about it. I wanted to help him, so we started talking about what he might do. One thing led to another, and he ended up with a company that did pretty well, buying up successful, independent businesses and letting them remain just as they were, but giving them the benefit of numbers for things like insurance, benefits, advertising, expenditures. And after the company itself garnered a bit of profit and a few more successful businesses, he'd buy in a more struggling company, or a free clinic, so some of the profits could go to help improve the conditions there. I got into it only to help him finance the initial purchases, then stayed in so he could turn the profits around to buy more companies. It's worked pretty well for the companies he's taken in, too, and he's been able to start looking at places that are even less likely to turn into big money makers. Just last year Ben brought in two more companies needing a hand – one, his sister-in-law's day care, and another, a book store run by a friend from school. And up 'til now, I wasn't involved in any of it, not even locating the businesses after we first talked, because Ben has done a really good job about trying to find places that need a hand." He paused in his rushed explanation, watching for a sign of her reaction, before he added, "Jam Pony is the only one I've asked to bring in."

She was silent for several moments, her back to him as she looked out his window, before tossing her hair and saying in a soft, sarcastic tone, "so being my boss as Eyes Only wasn't enough, you're the boss at Jam Pony now too."

"No," he replied immediately, feeling another blow that she not only seemed to ignore his offered explanation, but that the thought of his involvement in another piece of her life seemed so upsetting to her. "Look, there's no reason I have to have any part of it, or influence anything, or even know what's going on. Bennett does most of that, anyway, and it's big enough now that he's got someone in, helping with management and oversight, so even Ben isn't over your shoulder day to day." Seeing she was unmoved, he added, "you probably won't notice much change; they want the companies to continue as they were. But if there's anything you needed, we can pass it on to him. Or _you_ could," he corrected, "there's no reason you couldn't talk with him. He knows why I have an interest in Jam Pony, so it wouldn't be a surprise. It's just..." Logan finally ran out of steam, and offered quietly, "I had hoped this would be a good thing, Max ... for you ... for everyone there who means so much to you. That's all."

She didn't flinch, and Logan felt what was left of the morning's anticipation and happiness drain away. "Max..." he tried.

At which she spun on her heel and strode, without another word, through the penthouse and out the door.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel characters, lines and situations borrowed; no profits made. **

_A/N: Please see the A/N in Chapter 1 for LNR's wish list which prompted this story. _

_Finally bringing this Christmas gift to a close. LNR, hope you're still out there and reading!! Thanks to everyone who has stopped by, with extra hugs for all those who have left reviews, comments, and murmurs; extra servings for all of us who still remain here as tried and true M/L shippers. Any thoughts or comments are welcome. Max and Logan, for all time! _

**Secret Santa**

Max stormed out of the quiet penthouse, veering sharply away from the elevator toward the stairway, itching to burn off some of her pent-up agitation by pounding down thirty-five flights of steps. Despite her efforts to ignore the competing thoughts and emotions raging for her attention, Max tried hanging on to her original, angry reaction to the thought that Logan had been behind Jam Pony's buyout, even though that very reaction now set up a series of self-directed jabs, questions and taunts:

_What did you __**think**__ he had in mind? _She flew down flight after flight, swinging each turn in a blur._ Did you really think he was meaning to do anything but __**good**__ by helping out? This is __**Logan**__, for God's sake!_

Max took the turn at the twenty-first floor landing with a little kick and literally bounced off the wall to leap to the next landing with a self-directed snort.

_What kind of a jerk are you, to think that bailing out Jam Pony – and Normal – is a bad thing? How many times have you needed a hand and Logan was there for you? _

She grabbed the banister at her right and vaulted over the stairway's open side onto the flight below.

_So what if he just anticipated the need? _

She took only half of the flight on the top half of the steps between eight and seven, just bounding down the rest in one impatient leap.

_He might have done it so you wouldn't lose your job, you think about that? _

She came to an abrupt halt on the landing of the third floor, suddenly still and staring at the floor, knowing she'd lost the argument with herself.

_So what's the problem with you, anyhow? _

She wavered only another second, before walking down the rest of the steps at a more normal pace, still annoyed, still creeped out and bitchy and bugged by it all ... and still not any more certain why than when she'd arrived.

_What kind of a jerk are you, to be suspicious of __**Logan**__ – after all he's done for Seattle – and __**you**__?_

She pressed open the heavy steel door and crossed into the hushed, elegant lobby, managing a smile of thanks for the familiar doorman who, as always, watched out for her dilapidated Jam Pony bicycle as if it were a designer sports car. She grabbed it and walked it out into the icy, slushy mess that was settling in for the day, the morning's news, her reaction to it, and all that went with them both still leaving her unsettled and irritable.

**************

She'd been gone from Jam Pony barely thirty minutes, and walked in to find it transformed from the one she'd left earlier, the mood of the place now warming away the grey, dank cold and chill around them outside. About half the riders were still there, but no longer circling Normal – and no longer voicing the skepticism they'd shared with Max about the new owners. Instead, Druid and Herbal were near the front, shaking off icy rain as their grins made it clear they hadn't even noticed the weather. Along the entry stood the reason for their dampness and their grins: a dozen gleaming, brand-new five-speed bikes, glittering with drops of the icy sleet as they waited for a quick rub down by Druid. "Hey, Max," he grinned up at her. "Look what the new bosses just dropped off. And they got more coming in a few days."

She paused a moment to stare, then glanced at her old piece of junk, missing several parts, others held on by layers of plumber's tape. She managed a smile and a nod, then went on inside, past Normal's desk. She saw Sketchy with a granola bar stuck in his mouth as he lifted first one, then a second, flat of juice into the old, dilapidated refrigerator. He too grinned to see her. "Hey, Max. Hungry? We got food bars and some apples and bananas and stuff – all free," he gestured over his shoulder.

"You sell out too, Sketchy, just for some free food?" Max's irritation flared again.

"Well, yeah," he shrugged, with a grin. "If ya gotta sell out, ya might as well eat."

"I can't believe this..." she shook her head.

"Max, it's all good," Herbal came up, smiling broadly now, "it's the real thing. My woman, she has a cousin, and the cousin work at the food co-op on South Street, the one Benlo bought last year. See, on the flier," he gestured to one of the hand-outs on the table. "She tell my woman that Benlo bring them business, treat them very well. They keep all the promises they make to the people there. My woman's cousin has been to some of the other businesses, the clinic, and all of the Benlo businesses seem happy too. Max," Herbal's smile was dazzling. "This Benlo company is okay."

It was too much.

Max managed to mumble something in response before slamming over to her locker, yanking it open to rummage around inside, mainly needing an escape. _Were they all crazy?_ No, if Logan was involved, it probably_ was_ all good, all 'sunny' and hopeful. It still felt – wrong. It felt off; it felt like an intrusion. As if he didn't trust her with her own life.

_Is it that it's not part of the quid pro quo, like you're going to owe him for it all? Why is this bugging you so much?_

"Hey," a cheerier than usual Original Cindy plopped down beside her in front of their lockers and pulled hers open, too.

"Not you, too," Max moaned. "Tell me you haven't been taken in by all this, like they have."

"Boo, you know that Original Cindy is the first to question the motives of any whack do-gooder out there, but Herbal found out that it's the real thing. An' no sellin' your soul for it. Didn't they tell you?" When Max nodded glumly, Cindy looked at her almost as skeptically as she'd eyed the fliers that morning. "What do you have against gettin' a little of the good life back?"

Max slammed her locker closed and rolled her eyes. "Nothing. If you believe it's all as innocent as it seems."

"It's an honest business, Max, and they willin' to take care o' their employees. Nothin' wrong with bein' a little happy about that." Original Cindy leaned back against the lockers, giving her an odd, cautionary look.

"Except this is all from the crowd who drugged the insides outa Normal and put on a Hollywood production to run off Mr. Sivapathasundaram – and from you, who was preaching that something smelled rotten about whole thing." Max insisted, her voice taking on a sarcastic edge. "Now, not thirty minutes later, you're gonna marry the boss's daughter and the gang is singing Christmas carols to this Benlo place." _And I suppose I'm a jerk for not being grateful, now, too?_ "Forgive me for being a little behind on the whole celebration thing."

Original Cindy took a long look at her friend, then drew a breath to say, cooly, "Not all of us leave here at the end of the day to have someone cooking us a fancy, four course dinner." Her voice was low, sober, and direct – and she watched her friend's expression shift as Max caught on. "Some o' yo' peeps here ain't had a week go by that they don't miss a meal – or two – or more. They go home to three o' four hungry mouths to feed and they make sure those babies eat first. Some o' them will be a _lot_ better off with a few pieces of fruit and some energy bars, Max – their families, too." Cindy's tone was distant but even, as she stood up, shutting her own locker door. "You have a right to yo' opinion about what's goin' on – but you might also think about why yo' peeps are happy right about now. While you up in that penthouse with hotboy, up there in the clouds... the rest of us are here on the ground, jus' tryin' to get by."

And as Cindy walked away, Max was left, stunned, with a new perspective on things – and a whole head full of new thoughts and feelings to sort through...

**************

Logan had sat in the quiet penthouse for a good fifteen minutes after Max had gone, wondering how he could have done things better, wondering if he should have done it at all, before finally coming to the realization that, even if Max was angry with him for it, Benlo's buyout of Jam Pony was for the greater good.

_And I always do what's right ... right?_

He _knew_ it would bring the employees – _Max_, and her friends – better working conditions, better nutrition ... better quality of life. It certainly wouldn't _hurt_ anything.

Well, nothing other than his relationship with Max. Whatever _that_ was.

He sighed. _Why does everything with Max have to be so complicated?_ he wondered, but almost immediately conceded, _well ... not everything. _In a weird way, everything was easier than it had been with Valerie – with Max and him now, almost every fight or frustration could ultimately be traced back either to her unusual beginning, or his recent injury, or both. With Valerie, it was her, or it was him, depending on whom you asked. With Max and him ... it was something outside of them both, making it easier to see themselves as blameless for whatever tantrum or tirade came along...

He actually smiled a little at that, then chuckled ruefully. _What do you know_, he marveled wryly to himself. _Who'd've thought there'd be an upside to it all..._

_And just where did you get the backbone to think of you and Max in comparable terms of you and Valerie?_ he prodded himself, almost raising a blush even though he was alone.

It was enough to shake off the darker part of his mood.

_Ah, Max, I'm sorry, _he mentally apologized to her._ I keep trying, and I get it right only about half the time. Do you see through me yet?_ He mused on that thought for a while, then dared to also wonder, in the silence around him, _and does that make any difference?_

**************

He'd tried working after Max had left, but was distracted. He found himself flipping back through e-mails he'd gotten from his cousin as he had finalized the deal with Jam Pony, gotten leads on what investments to make early on to help boost their efficiency and their quality of work and work environment. Logan was reminded how he'd felt in first reading the notes, satisfied and pleased, seeing nothing but good things for Max and her friends from the buyout. Even now, he felt the same, only now holding the additional hope that Max would see it this way too, eventually...

He heard his door, the alarm system keyed and reset knowledgeably. Bling wasn't due until much later, but .... Max? He hadn't expected her for at least a day or two, given her exit...

But it was definitely Max who reappeared in his doorway, her expression again undecipherable. As he looked up at her quizzically, she paused, fidgeted, then looked up to meet his eyes. "Hey," she said, low.

"Hey," he returned, his eyes not leaving her.

She wavered in the doorway only another moment or two before coming around to sit again in the desk chair in which she'd confronted him only a few hours before. After another moment or two of silence, something clearly on her mind, she shifted to jam her hand into her pocket then pull it out again, extending it under Logan's nose in an almost abrupt gesture. "Here," she announced.

Even if he hadn't seen the deep, shiny red of the apple she held, he'd have recognized its subtle sweet scent, preserving a bit of the fall in the dreary winter's day. "What's this?" he tried, blinking in his surprise.

"A piece of fruit," she clipped, all attitude.

He laughed in a soft snort. "I can see that, Max." His eyes held his patience, and Max fidgeted again, glancing away.

"It's a piece of fruit ... from Jam Pony. From a bowl of fruit. In the fridge. For the riders." She finally looked up to make eye contact. "Something new, because, you know ... the last guys who owned it didn't really care if we were eating or not."

He wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes – a contriteness? Not exactly ... but something had settled within her since he last saw her. He nodded, a faint smile on his lips, as he waited to see what had happened since she'd stormed out earlier. "So I'd heard."

She snorted softly. "What kind of owners care if their employees eat?"

He looked at her, long, seeing the growing acceptance in her eyes, leaving her only a tiny, lingering doubt that others could be so altruistic. He suddenly grinned, anticipating her reaction to what he'd say. "Well, Max ... you're in a group of employees who won't give maximum output if they're undernourished, or weak, or sick. A little money spent to keep you hydrated and fueled with some healthy snacks would probably be worth three times that in productivity."

He was right. Her eyes sparked with not only the humor in the situation, and what he was offering her, but with how easily she could believe just that, and how the fact that something just might be in it for them, too, made all the difference in her acceptance level. "You think so?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.

"Bet there's even been a cost-benefit study on it. They do analyses on those kinds of things all the time and in this economy, I bet a lot of businesses have to deal with a less healthy workforce. Adding improved nutrition and hydration, offering free or low cost medical checks or even preventative care when you need it, probably is cheaper than getting weaker performance from each of you every day, or losing each of you a few days each month because of colds or worse. Jam Pony needs you all fit and alert and healthy. What Benlo has added all just turns around to making it more likely that Jam Pony messengers are quick and efficient at their deliveries, and are dependable for being on time, on the clock, a full day, every day."

"Those bastards!" Max's eyes twinkled in delight now – and some relief – with her faux indignation, and his easy acceptance of her showing up again, even after her scene earlier. "Make us healthy, will they, all just for their own greed? Just like I figured..." she teased, seeing that Logan seemed content with her way of making amends, and with that felt even more fondness for this crazy do-gooder. She sobered a little at that and said, sincerely, "Logan – I was an ass. A ... scared ass, but an ass..."

"Scared?" he echoed, surprised. "Why, Max?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. I think ..." She paused again, and shook her head. "I think it's something about ... about _owing_ people. About too many debts, too many ties, in case ... you know... in case I have to run again, I haven't left things unfinished. I haven't owed more than a few people in my life for anything, and I've paid almost all of them back. As long as I keep things that way, and I don't owe anyone anything..."

He waited; she didn't finish. He tipped his head to the side, thinking, then offered gently, "there's more to life than everything adding up to pluses and minuses, Max."

"Or _quid pro quos_," she whispered.

"Way more," he nodded. He considered her for a moment, then said, in all seriousness, "Max, you have my word that Bennett and the company will look at Jam Pony and all its employees the same way as it does all its other companies – no more, no less. They do good work for their companies. I think you and everyone will be pleased. If not, bring it up with them. And I promise you it's not about any _quid pro quo_ or payback for Bennett, other than the little black lines in a ledger book he can show Uncle Jonas at the end of each quarter. Every one of those companies is helping him out with his father, and that sort of help doesn't come all that easily. So he's getting a benefit, too, a big one that makes him _very_ happy."

"And you?" she dared. "What's in it for you, Logan?"

He smiled softly, quiet for a moment, then lifted the apple. "A piece of fruit," he said. "And a chance to see something in this broken economy that actually is a win-win situation."

Max considered him, finally deciding that he was being entirely truthful with her, as crazy as it all might seem. She finally snorted and laughed softly, shaking her head. "Whack do-gooders," she repeated, this time aloud.

He tossed the apple from one hand to the other a couple times, then said, "think you'd like to have dinner with one of the whack do-gooders?" His expressive green eyes glittered as he awaited her response.

"Yeah, but let me bring dinner." As she saw surprise – pleased surprise – cross his features, she confessed, "a peace offering? I'll bring something after work."

He tipped his head, accepting graciously. "Thank you, Max."

"Don't spoil your appetite," she stood and tugged her jacket down, zipping it up against the elements.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he promised. "Anything you need me to have ready? Or should I pick the wine?

She shrugged, fighting the grin that threatened to appear as she tried to seem unmoved by his widening smile. "I'll take care of everything this time." She crossed to the hall, pivoting with a flourish in the doorway as she lifted her eyebrows, a cocky grin on her beautiful features.

She was toying with him, and his grin lifted even higher to see it as he waited.

"Not sure exactly what it will be yet," she drawled teasingly, as she leaned back toward him, palm on his computer desk and her face coming almost nose to nose with him. Seeing his eyes widen in anticipation, she whispered as provocatively as she knew how, "... but plan on energy bars and fruit..."

**************

_The end ... or the beginning?_


End file.
